Madame Nightshade’s Poison Garden

At the end of her one-woman show, standing in the debris it’s produced, arrayed in pink and while plastic, Madame Nightshade (Anna Thomson) asks the audience not to tell anyone about the show, ‘because it’s a secret’.  And, indeed, telling too much about it would be to give too much away.  It’s a show that depends on surprises – not to say shocks – and a recurring response is, ‘Oh, no, she’s not going to… She is!  Oh, my god!’  It’s a show that has possibly two characters, some costume changes involving wigs, ball gowns and a polka-dot bikini, audience participation (or abuse), a big garbage bin, vegetables as weapons, the very messy consumption of other food stuffs and some limited prancing about. 

It’s the White Clown (tenderness and malice mixed) meets Spike Milligan at the further reaches of absurdity meets a touch of Los Trios Ringbarkus meets gleeful playground scatology.  It is anarchic and close to incoherent but entertaining and only a very talented clown like Anna Thomson could get away with it.  Not that she does – not entirely – but the audience laughed - and winced - throughout.

Ms Thomson devised the Madam Nightshade character as a character ‘for a short vignette’ with comedy troupe PO PO MO CO – but has developed the concept (if that’s the word), with the help of directors Sarah Ward and Jaye Haynes plus Kimberly Twiner – into a full-length show.  Some might argue that Madame Nightshade should have stopped at short vignette since this show is now a series – or grab bag - of short vignettes without a great deal of linking material: it’s one turn – or comic ‘idea’ - after another in ascending outrageousness.

Lara Week drapes the stage in autumnal grape leaves – that’s the ‘garden’ bit – and adds an outdoor table and chairs that are used for about a minute.  Megz Evans’ lighting aids what transitions there are and Jacky T provides a very precise sound design made up of effects and clever music choices that give Ms Thomson cues for the next bit.  At one point, we all hum along to On the Street Where You Live.

Should you browse the ‘Creator’s Notes’ in the program before the show, ignore them – especially the references to Dante and The Holy Mountain.  What you are about to see bears scant resemblance to what Ms Thomson claims she’s doing – unless, of course, it’s all another gag - except for this: ‘I want audiences to be affected by the live experience, to oscillate between joy and revulsion, delight and disgust, laughter and discomfort.’  That’s an accurate description of what happens.

Michael Brindley